


Sic Semper Evello Mortem Tyrannis

by mikeythemage



Series: Ghost Bois Inc. Universe [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Blind Character, Blood God Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade Is Not Okay, Family Issues, French Revolution, Gen, Heavy Angst, Historical Inaccuracy, Monarchy, Murder, Rebellion, Revolution, Riots, Royalty, Self-Mutilation, Technoblade is a prince, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeythemage/pseuds/mikeythemage
Summary: Figures of tyranny will always end up being overthrown. Thus, always, I bring death to tyrants.alternatively;Technoblade's Backstory
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Original Characters, Dave | Technoblade & Ranboo, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Jschlatt, Original Characters & Original Characters, Ph1LzA | Phil Watson/Kristen Watson | Ph1LzA's Wife (mentioned), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Jschlatt, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Ghost Bois Inc. Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106696
Comments: 10
Kudos: 274





	Sic Semper Evello Mortem Tyrannis

The irony of being a prince who hates the monarchy was anything but lost on Technoblade. In fact, it kept him up at night. The simple fact that he wanted to tear his own families status from their hands and laugh at their struggling to keep themselves afloat without the commodity they were used to made his head spin. The image of seeing his parents being held responsible for the troubles they put their subjects to by the people who wouldn't give them the benefit of the doubt overtaking his thoughts. The liberation that would sweep the country a feeling he yearns for. He thinks about it so often that he has an idea of every possible outcome.

Outcome number one, his parents are killed, along with himself and his siblings, and the country goes on better than it's been in centuries. Outcome number two, his entire family is killed and they replace the monarchy, only for the cycle to repeat itself. Outcome number three, his parents are the only ones killed and the monarchy is erased. Outcome number four, no one in his family dies but are instead jailed for their crimes against the people. Outcome number five, the revolution fails and his family is murdered for no reason.

Outcome number five is his least favorite.

Richie, Techno's younger brother, had been the one to give him the nickname 'Technoblade' when he was thirteen. Apparently because 'Dave' was too boring. He has no idea how Richie even came up with 'Technoblade' but it's managed to stick, even if it had come for a three year old. He knows you aren't supposed to have favorites in family, but Richie is definitely his favorite. As annoying as he can be sometimes, it's nice to have someone around that's so unapologetically carefree to distract him from the issues weighing down on him. He loves the little rascal, even if he constantly making fun of him for having long hair.

He's forgetful, for the most part. He remembers vividly the time that Richie forgot his own name at the age of nine, and then forgot his birthday the very next day. He would place things and they would go missing for months until he found it underneath the west-wing stair well while he was hiding something else there, only for that thing to go missing. Richie had even forgotten to bring him a pen once, which was the only thing he'd asked him to do, even though he didn't even have to leave the room to do so. He ended up apologizing for half an hour for that, even though Techno had never asked for one.

His parents described it as a hindrance and something that he needed to grow out of, Techno just found it to be rather amusing.

He spends his days in the knights chambers with Clay, a knight around his own age of nineteen, sparring. Clay is probably the best knight in the kingdom, something that Techno would never admit to his face, but _he's_ definitely the best fighter in the kingdom (something he has no qualms shoving in Clay's face). Their sparring always ends up turning into a spectacle, a crowd forming in a circle around them for however long it takes one of them to win. The current score is seventy-three to seventy-one with Techno in the lead, of course.

He still remembers their first sparring match that had drawn blood like it was yesterday. He was fifteen, Clay was sixteen, and the first cut had been an accident. He'd tripped over his own feet and accidentally made a small cut on Clay's forearm, which caused the crowd around them to go insane, and the two are nothing if not showmen so they figured, why not play into it? What could possibly go wrong?

So much went wrong.

Clay had tried to make a small cut on Techno's leg, but the instinct to dodge took over and he ended up moving his leg into the sword. The cut was deep enough that it stained the pair of pants he was wearing to where they were practically useless. Honestly, if Techno hadn't been so stubborn he would have yielded right there, but he was stubborn so he did the only thing he could think of at that time. He went all in.

He pushed his sword into Clay's left arm, taking a large chunk off of it and leaving a scar that's still incredibly visible six years later, and in retaliation he got a scar on his left cheek. The clashing of metal against metal and skin being torn open by their swords was relentless, the crowd silent for once in pure shock. The ground around them covered in blood, their own clothes stained and their weapons shining red in the afternoon sun. It was a hot day, no breeze to be found, and Techno can still feel the sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose sometimes. 

The final blow was one that Clay says he wasn't sure about whether Techno was actually going to kill him or not. He'd pushed Clay to the ground, stepping onto his chest to keep him from getting up, and cut a thin line across his neck that wasn't deep enough to cause permanent damage but deep enough to bleed. The crowd had moved on from their stunned silence, opting to chanting 'Blood God', and the look in Techno's eyes made him look downright unrecognizable. He looked like he was seconds away from taking Clay's life without remorse, cold stare locked onto Clay's own green eyes. The voice of Techno's mother was what had snapped him out of it, just as Clay could feel the cool iron digging deeper into his skin, and the fight was over.

Techno still has no idea why he nearly took off his best friends head, but he knows that whatever voice was in his head didn't like that he'd backed out on it.

He's twenty when word of the revolution reaches him in the castle. He hadn't meant to hear it, if the way the two castle workers were whispering about it in a closet was any indication, but he can't help but feel a rush of excitement at the news. He wants the monarchy to fall as bad as most people do. His father's constant mistreatment of the people he says he cares about enough to make him feel like he's been born into a long line of liars who do nothing but cheat their way through life. His mother saying such abhorrent things of the castle workers you'd think she'd never held a conversation with them. His older sisters scorn of other nobles whose party wear looked even slightly less valuable than hers. His own ignorance to the struggles of people he considered friends until recent years.

It's a split second decision when he decides to run away in an attempt to help the revolution. Done without packing so much as a change of clothes and executed so quickly it's unlikely he left any evidence of his leave. He doesn't even take a horse, going, instead, on foot to a town he'd heard one of the kitchen staff speak fondly of when he was younger. He's going to lead the revolution to overthrow his family.

The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, how could it be, but he can't find it in himself to care.

He's twenty-one when Richie, eleven, is standing in the corner of their parents bedroom cowering in fear while they shield him. Eyes the size of saucers and he looks at his older brother, covered in blood with a sword in one hand and Clay's head in the other wearing armor covered in dirt, blood, and grass. There's a stone cold look in his eyes as he stares down his parents. His older sister had been caught in the battle in the throne room, her head placed carefully on one of the thrones by one of the people fighting by his side. It's nice symbolism, he thinks.

His father is saying something about what he's doing being irrational, that he needs to think through what he's doing and how if he goes through with this then he's throwing the future of the country away. His mother said something about how they could talk things out, that he was scaring them. He can't remember what he told them for the life of him, but he knows that it made Richie start to cry and that made him snap.

The entire thing is a blur of rage. He remembers the screaming, and the pleading of his name, and the lack of emotion coursing through him. He remembers how empty and unrewarding the first half of it felt. How seeing his parents lifeless bodies at him feet made him feel pride more than anything else before even that was overtaken by a dull nothingness. How he realized that he'd finally done it, but he still felt like he'd fucked it up somehow.

And then he'd looked to his left and saw Richie lying in a puddle of his own blood with a gaping wound going through his back and back out through his chest and he fell to his knees.

He couldn't remember doing that. Couldn't remember anything but the voice in his head telling him to finish them off. Telling him that there could be no room for mercy, or remorse. They were the lion, and he was the champion thrown into the ring. He needed to win. He _had_ to win. Losing was _not_ an option. It was them, or him. _They had to die_.

He'd killed his family for the revolution, and he couldn't even say he felt good about it. Couldn't say that there was no sorrow because of it. Couldn't say he felt nothing for them. He'd killed his family for the revolution he'd wanted since he was twelve, and he could feel the guilt splashing over him in waves. Not for his mother, or his father, or his sister who were all too far gone to relearn anything, but for Richie.

Richie, who had never done anything wrong.

Richie, who didn't have a mean bone in his body.

Richie, who always tried to make people smile when he knew they were having a bad day.

Richie, who was only eleven.

It's three days after the revolution when he rams two daggers into his eyes and lets himself bleed out on the steps of the palace. The chanting of 'Blood God' rings in his ears when he wakes.

"I'm really sorry I forgot to bring you your jacket!" Techno hears from Tommy's room. It's a voice he hasn't heard before, he's guessing it's one of those friends Wil had been telling him about when he got home last night from a few months wandering around to find his attachment and stop the noise. There was no such luck. He's gotten used to the chanting by now though, even if it had been incredibly overwhelming for the first few decades he'd been a ghost. Wil says that he'd heard his son calling out to him until he met Tommy, coupled with the sobs that came after he was hung. Techno feels like Wil definitely got it worse, even if it wasn't as loud. It's still annoying, but he's learned to tune it out to the best of his ability.

When he gets to Tommy's room, he senses two boys beside the blonde as they talk animatedly about some subject he knows nothing about. Tommy spots him, face lighting up, "Hey, Blade!" he says, waving frantically if the noises of protest and 'dude, watch where you wave that thing!' are anything to go by.

The boy on his right, a brunette (as Wil had so described him), most likely looks up at him and smiles. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Tubbo."

"Nice to meet you, as well." He nods before turning his attention to the one on Tommy's left. He's baffled at the sigh of Techno like he just saw...well, a ghost, if the sputtering is to be taken that way, but if Tubbo's indifferent reaction is anything to go by, Techno assumes that it's an everyday occurrence for him. Tommy elbows the boy, Techno assumes from the mumbled 'ow, fuck off, Tommy'.

"Ranboo, say hi."

There's silence for a little longer before he finally speaks up, "Hello."

The chanting stops, and Techno thinks that the world has never sounded quieter.


End file.
